


Bookends [paper stars]

by crossstitchcorinthian



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Codependency, Family, Friendship, Minor Character Death, School, Silence, a very very strange writing form
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:19:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossstitchcorinthian/pseuds/crossstitchcorinthian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" It wasn’t the fact that Zain spoke (heard) again that surprised Zayn. He’d never really realized he’d stopped (dead). It was the warmth (familiar), the certainty (mine), the reality (heart) of it (him) that surprised him- the protection (Liam) felt like his friends (home). So, to everybody else’s surprise, he become one. The first (perfect) human since (noble) mother had (gone) left.</p><p>            Any small strip of paper will do. As long as you can fold it, it will do."<br/>Some people are meant to be paper stars. They just need to right hands to fold them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Step i

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt like this. Chew upon like a split end, waded at the bottom of a paper wastebasket.

            That’s not to say he thought of it as a bad feeling. Uncomfortable as it was- the shadow in the corner of Liam’s eye, the small whisper at the back of the other boy’s brain- it offered him a sense of belonging. A place he could stand and (silent) scream, “This is mine.”

            Zain had been told he wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t this (easy) difficult. He’d been a fussy child. A (name) king of a solitary castle in which the subjects, lord and lady alike, were objects of his own (beautiful) imagination. It wasn’t that he didn’t have friends- the open faced old wood wardrobe in the corner of his room, the step stool they kept under the sink, his younger sister’s (secret) dusty dolls, the majestic mahogany (noble) motherly clock in the hall- for he had plenty of those. It was simply that nobody else could see (hear) them.

            “Ay! Sitting in the hallway again. There’s sun today, and yet you’re staring at the clock, as if it might run off if you didn’t. Don’t you want to chase about the other boys?” Doniya sighed, rubbing the back of her hands on her jeans as she emerged from the kitchen. She sunk to her knees besides him, searching his face with her (gracious) eyes.

            Zain shrugged, fiddling with his (cold) fingers, his eyes mumbling some excuse about not wanting to. He couldn’t (show) tell her the truth. He’d tried to once. She’d simply laughed, ruffling his hair with an affectionate air.

            “Oh. Baby brother. Who told you that? You’re looking at the clock as if it might speak. They can tock or tick, but not talk.” Zain had put on a good front when she’d said that, rolling his eyes as best an eight (before) year old could. He’s nodded, mumbling poor apologies to the clock. It wasn’t her fault her voice was too deep, too sombre, to be loud.

            His (noble) mother used to hear them too. At least, she had acted as if she had. Leaning against the (warm) old wood, chuckling at the timbre of the clock’s voice. She’d left them recently, her keys singing about her hip as she told Doniya to keep the kids out of the kitchen whilst she was gone. She hadn’t said anything the last time he’d seen her. Doniya, holding the baby to her breast- as she had when she’d told her mother that she would, though she couldn’t promise she’d stay away herself- had touched her (thankful) hand to his shoulder, nudging him into Yaser’s (papa) arms. Everybody’s eyes had seemed so sad, so cold and watery in that blank (final) place.  
            They whispered (scream) to one another when they though he couldn’t hear them. “There’s no way to tell a child like that that their mother is gone.” Smashed. Crashed. Painted by all her own colours in a screech and chrome. Zayn wasn’t too worried. Lately the clocks tone had lifted, the minute hand occasionally whispering in a breathy (noble) soprano.

            His quiet scared (righteous) Yaser. He’d grab Zain by the scruff of his neck, booming in a loud voice about improper mourning and boy who had never become men because they’d remained sad for too long. Zayn didn’t blame him- even when his breath chafed his (beautiful) cheek and his rest slightly too heavily upon his (king) head. Yaser (papa) was in sadness himself, his shadow falling soft and blue like (noble) mama’s dress. It didn’t hurt Zayn anymore than it hurt  (righteous) Yaser. It wasn’t supposed to.

            Zain (Zayn) barely noticed what could (wanted) see, and what others couldn’t. He didn’t notice when he stopped speaking (giving) out loud. Doniya had long since learnt to hear through his silence (loud), and Yaser (papa) had given up on him. He’d stumbled back into work, growing to love (escape) his business. There was order there, memos and office hours. You didn’t have to try to understand with business- you either did, or you got the ell out of the office and let your personal assistant deal with the bloody fools instead. Your subordinates didn’t try and talk to the office furniture, or stare at it for hour upon with absolutely no sensible reason.  

            It wasn’t the fact that Zain spoke (heard) again that surprised Zayn. He’d never really realized he’d stopped (dead). It was the warmth (familiar), the certainty (mine), the reality (heart) of it (him) that surprised him- the protection (Liam) felt like his friends (home). So, to everybody else’s surprise, he become one. The first (perfect) human since (noble) mother had (gone) left.

            **Any small strip of paper will do. As long as you can fold it, it will do.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opinions would be helpful.  
> Positive, negative- just tell me what you think.  
> (If you're going to be negative, I would like to know why, as I can't be expected to improve if I am unaware of what's off.)  
> I do realize the style is a bit...odd, to say the least.


	2. Chapter 2

             He was undeniably real.  
            Zain hadn’t been too sure of it when he’d entered, silently slipping in behind Ms. Alba (pure) to smile shyly at nobody in particular. He’d originally thought he was simply another one of his friends (alone). Though it wasn’t that they weren’t (alive) real. Simply that the other’s couldn’t (wouldn’t) hear them.

            After an equally brief and awkward introduction- _Liam Payne- Wolver’ampton- Year Ten- No ma’am- Tha’s fine_ \- the boy was directed towards the empty seat in middle of the room. The only free (fate) seat in the room. It sat between Zain (beautiful) and the sweet-faced personable blonde. She was already leaning across her desk, a delicate (pretty) hand resting on Liam’s arm.

            “ ‘Lo.” She grinned at him, a row of (perfect) pearly whites peaking through bright lips. “It’s lovely to meet you. If ya need some help, don’t be afraid to give us a holler now.” She motioned towards Zain, her smile (patient) kind. “He’s Zain.”

            Liam grinned (warmth) back, his skin softening, rolling about the edge of his eyes. “Great. Will do. It’s nice to meet you Perrie.” He turned that soft smile towards Zain, reaching out a hand. “You too, mate. Zain, was it?”

            Perrie’s smile faltered slightly, and she reached for Liam’s arm again, all ready to explain. Zain beat her to it.

            He did not look up, smile (cold), or take Liam’s hand. What he did was to mumble into the grubby, familiar grain of his desk. “Yeah. Glad to meet you.”

            Zain heard Perrie’s sharp intake of breath, noting with some surprise from the corner of his eyes the way her pupils had dilated when he spoke. He couldn’t understand it. Whilst he’d never had to speak out loud to her before, it wasn’t as if they never communicated. Like (gracious) Doniya, she seemed to understand him. He’d only spoken out loud now because he’d not been quite sure if he’d be able to hear him without the verbal reminder.

            Feeling as if he might have upset his (only) friend, he let his breath out, his head dropping to his desk, his long lashes downturned onto his cheek. He reached behind Liam, his (damp) fingers finding hers, brushing against them. An assurance. He felt her nails gently scratch his skin as she joined their hands, squeezing slightly. 

            Zain turned his head to see her face. Her eyes were blazing bluer than ever, and she was grinning. “It was just a bit of a surprise to hear Zain’s voice. The poor love’s not spoken in a while. I’ve been able to understand him. Only god knows how I managed that.” She squeezed his (green) hand once more before letting it slip. The teacher had turned around, finished drawing today’s geographic diagram on the board.

            Perrie waited for her to slip back behind her desk before continuing in an under tone. “It really doesn’t give us a lot of friends. The idiots think he’s thick, or bonkers, or some sort of mix of both, and they leave him, and anybody around him, well enough alone. Still, we manage our best, don’t we?” She glanced across at Zain again, and he inclined his head.

            Perrie had opened her mouth again, ready to speak, when Ms. Alba looked up again. “Miss Edwards. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here, and assuming you’re simply telling Liam what the purpose of my map is.”

            Perrie flashed those pearly whites again, nodding. “Yes. Of course ma’am.”

            Ms. Alba raised her eyebrow, and Perrie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, though her eyes remained locked onto the teacher. Ms. Alba huffed slightly, and focused back onto her laptop.

            “We’ll talk more after class? You’ll eat lunch with us, won’t you?” She had turned back to Liam, and was looking at him hopefully.

            “Oh. Yeah. Yeah. Sure. I’d love to.” Liam nodded, and turned back to his paper. When he saw Zain still staring, he simply smiled at him until the other’s gaze dropped.

                                                            *            *            *

            “So you’re telling me he hasn’t spoke a word in-“

            “Over five years. Not one.” Perrie shook her head, her dainty (pretty) hand raised to cover her mouth as she spoke around a bite of salad.

            “Not even so much as a sorry when he ran me down in the halls on the first day of year five. It’s a bit of a funny story, actually.”

       She waved her hand in circular motions to indicate that she wasn’t done, simply finishing her bite. When she was done chewing, she let it slip down to Zain’s, and continued after swallowing. “He helped me pick up my books just the same, and we’ve just sort of stuck by each other since. I can’t really hold it against him.”

      Perrie (sweetness) shot Zain a quick grin before turning her attention back to Liam. She lifted her hand (gone) from her lap to pick up her fork. Zain had to resist the urge to grab it back. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to the slightly uncomfortable air that remained, stubbornly stagnant, between the three of them. Her hand was simply a (familiar) comfort, somewhat of a reminder.

     “Sorry ‘bout that.” Zain looked down at his nail, resisting the urge to push back already dangerously short cuticles.

     Her (understanding) smile almost blinded him this time. Perrie quickly waved his apology away with her fork. It’s really was perfectly fine. She was about to assume him that he was already (loved) forgiven when a tatty toed boot, and the curvaceous backside it was consequently attached to, landed besides her tray.

     “Babe! You never told me our boy was speaking again.” Perrie sighed, and rolled her eye at the grinning (lively) girl, grabbing her hand in an attempts to pull her off the table. The other resisted, almost making Perrie stand when she pulled back. “You know mama likes to know when her babies grow.”

     Perrie rolled her eyes affectionately, and gave up trying to pull the other off the table. “Ha. Yeah, hilarious, Lee. Get your rather large arse off the table and onto the bench. I don’t fancy eating anywhere that thing’s sat.” Leigh Anne- or Lee, as Perrie had called her- chuckled, a rich, dark sound that rolled from her skin like sweat.

     “Where’s the fun in sitting on the bench, Perrie? Cummon’. The table’s more comfortable anyway.” She tugged up sharply on Perrie’s hand, which she still had in her own, making her stumble into a standing position.

     Perrie pulled her (pale) hand from Leigh Anne’s, and crossing her arms, dropped back into her seat. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to mind your P’s and Q’s, Lee?”

     “What would those be? No. Wait. Don’t tell me.” Leigh Anne was the one to roll her eyes this time. They flickered over to Liam halfway through the role, and she twisted her torso, getting a better look at him. “It stands for Perrie and the Queens, right? You and Zain have finally started that rock band you look like you belong to with this young stud over here, haven’t you?”

     She (feral) winked at Liam before pushing herself towards Perrie, reaching for her fork as she did so. Perrie gently pushed her face away, her eyes shinning the same blue as before.

     “I’ll start the introductions, as you were obviously raised in a brothel, rather than some sort of home-“ Perrie had to pause there, as Leigh Anne had slipped from the table to the bench besides her. She was shimmying up and down Perrie’s side, singing something that sounded suspiciously like a Spice Girl’s number.

     Perrie leant away from her, and against (comfort) Zain, her hair brushing his shoulder as she pushed out protests between the breaks in her breathless laughter. One corner of his mouth managed to pull itself up into an almost smile, and he caught Liam’s (warmth) eye. The other was already smiling back at him, his eyes glowing like fresh cut wood. Perrie managed to straighten herself after a few moments, and pulled away from him again. The (familiar) contact gone, Zain’s eyes dropped to his food.

     “Right then. As I was about to say before being so rudely interrupted.” Perrie glared at Leigh Anne here, but she, unaffected, simply inclined her head in a mock bow. “Liam, meet the scandal. She’s a year eleven, but for whatever reason, we can’t seem to quite shake her. Not that we haven’t tried.” Leigh Anne pretended to pout, causing Perrie to pause again so that she could giggle. Her (dainty) hand went back to cover her mouth as she did so.

     “Leigh, meet the new boy. As I’ve said, his name is Liam, and you’re not to devour him too quickly. It’s not often we have new friends, and you tend to make such a mess when you eat them. Do you know how difficult it is to get blood stains out of this uniform?” She raised an eyebrow, obviously trying to appear stern, but it didn’t quite work. Her expression quickly dissolved into something quite affectionate as Leigh Anne threw her arm around her, squeezing briefly.

     Leigh Anne half chuckled, swinging herself back onto the table, then across and over it. She slid down onto the bench beside Liam, and slung her arm around his (sandstone) shoulder, grinning at him impishly.

     “Wotcher, mate. The name’s Leigh Anne Pinnock, and I am Perrie’s slightly older, and considerably more fun friend. Though, if you ask her, I’m a terrible influence and a breaker of rules.” She stuck the (strong) hand that wasn’t wrapped around the shoulder out to him, and he took it, amused by Perrie’s disapproving expression. It was a poor mask for her obvious affection. Leigh Anne, satisfied with this introduction, let him go. She turned to (eye) stare Zain.

     “So. Zainie. Tell me. Now that you’re slowly starting to grow a pair-“ She smiled a bit too sweetly at Perrie, who had opened her mouth to protest. That smile had sharp edges to it. “-Of lungs, that is…you finally going to do something about that?”

     She motioned to the pair of them, Zain and Perrie, whose shoulders brushed as they both shifted uncomfortably. Zain’s (confusion) eyebrows furrowed, and Perrie glared at her as her (pretty) hand found its way to his thigh, squeezing gently.

     “What?” Zain didn’t really understand why Leigh Anne was smirking at him. Why Liam’s eyes hand lit up with some sort of apparent understanding. Or why Perrie’s (delicate) face was stretched taut over her anger.

     “I’ve told you before, Leigh. Just because you don’t make a habit out of befriending boys you don’t want to bed doesn’t mean I won’t.” Leigh Anne (untouchable) huffed, and rolled her eyes again. She cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

     “Oh yeah? Where’s your hand at the moment then, Perrie?” As a matter of habit, he’d covered it with his own. He frowned lightly as she pulled it away, flushing out of anger.

     “It’s not like you and I don’t rest our hands on each other’s legs or hold hands all the time, Leigh.” Zain looked between the two (feminine) faces, trying to understand what they were talking about. He hazarded a quick look at Liam, who shrugged at him before returning to his food.

     “Yeah. But we’re both girls. It’s a bit different, isn’t it?” Leigh Anne crossed her arms, strangely defensive all of a sudden.

      “Just because you make that distinction doesn’t mean I do.” Perrie sighed, and shook her (sweet) head, her hair scattering light all over his shoulder. Her (soft) features blurred back, her anger draining almost as quickly as it had come. “Leigh. Knock it off. We’re not like that, and we don’t want to be like that.”

     Leigh rolled her eyes yet again, her curls twisting about her neck as she shook her head. “Oh. Come on. You’ve been interested in him since you ran into him back in year five. It’s not like you treat him like a charity case. If it’s not that-“

      Zain managed to catch Perrie’s eye, and what Leigh Anne was saying finally (wrong) clicked. Her eyes had darkened to a grey. They were burning with a strange sort of defiance. She was right. They weren’t like that. They didn’t want to be like that. At least, not with each other.

     “We’re friends, Leigh. Friends. Like you and I. I’m not daft enough to turn a friend away. Not one who I’m able to understand. Not one who understands me.”

     Something else clicked in his brain then, and he smiled, ignoring the look of surprise on Leigh Anne’s face.

     In the five years she’d known him, it was the first time she’d ever seen him properly smile.

     “Yeah. Friends.” 

**Wrap the top of the strip around one of your fingers. Make certain it fits all the way around.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback, please?


End file.
